Chronos
by Loud Mucker Complex
Summary: Four years ago, Eren hated Jean with everything he had, for everything Jean was, including how his own gut was telling him that Jean Kirstein was going to be a permanent problem (fixture) in his life.


**Chronos**

_An Attack on Titan Fan Fiction_

_Featuring Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein_

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Four years ago, Eren hated Jean for everything that he was. Eren hated him at first sight. Eren hated his smug smirks, his stupid haircut, his ability to keep up with Eren's name-calling. Eren hated how good Jean was in his weakest subjects, how Jean got along with Armin and how he kept telling Mikasa how pretty her hair was. Eren hated how Jean could land punches that stung for days, how deep it cut when he said how Eren was just a pathetic, angry kid still despite being a high school student, hated how much poison Jean could infuse in a single, "Jaeger!" Four years ago, Eren hated Jean with everything he had, for everything Jean was, including how his own gut was telling him that Jean Kirstein was going to be a permanent problem (fixture) in his life.

**[ii]**

Three years ago, Eren hated how Jean had seemed to be purposefully taking all the classes Eren was in, even getting higher grades in some of them. Eren hated how Jean found out a way to look even better (hotter) with thick-rimmed glasses. Eren hated how every time he saw a red beanie Jean's face would flash in his mind like a warning. Eren hated how Jean made hipster fashion seem appealing to Eren's fashion-unconscious eyes, how Jean made industrial piercings look cool. Three years ago, Eren hated Jean with everything he had, for everything Jean was, including how hot he was (is).

**[iii]**

Two years ago, Eren hated how Jean seemed to expand his range of friends, and how he started to hang out with Marco a lot. Eren hated how Jean seemed to have finally outgrown his problems a little better than him, how he would no longer stutter like an idiot in front of Mikasa. Eren hated how Jean didn't always take Eren's rage seriously, how Jean had learned to distinguish Eren's different kinds of anger. Eren hated how Jean had started to use his first name when yelling. Eren hated how Jean pointed out, while they were rolling around the parking lot in a punching-fest, that the pretty red that colored Eren's cheeks had been a blush, and not a flush fueled by anger. And Eren hated, _hated_, how right Jean was.

**[iv]**

Last year, Eren hated how Jean continued to be in almost all of his classes. Eren hated how Jean's usual glare that used to be the only way he looked at Eren, became smirking eyes that glinted with things Eren didn't want to (was too afraid to) name. Eren hated how Jean occupied the walls of his head, how his words sometimes echoed in his mind at random times. Eren hated how Jean was there when he got home and it rained confetti, how Jean was there to give him a noogie before letting him blow his mismatched seventeen candles, like he was planting his own wish for Eren to be blown with the smoke. Eren hated it that it was getting harder and harder to ignore all the flaws in Jean that Eren made himself, how everything in Jean that he hated was slowly melting away to reveal things Eren might come to love instead without Eren noticing.

**[v]**

Last month, Eren hated how Jean talked about college, about getting the hell out of town because, "Nothing, and no _one_ is holding me back in this place." Eren hated how Jean still made him unable to say what he really meant (that, _Jean, you moron you have friends here. You have me—_), how Jean still forced him to yell out things he didn't mean (saying instead, _Good riddance if you're out of here!_), how Jean always made these pinched faces every time that made Eren hate himself instead. Eren hated how Jean seemed to stop being able to (or, he was trying to) dig deeper into Eren's angry words and hand gestures and hunched shoulders. Eren hated how Jean simply ceased to giving him exasperated sighs, but still shared his Ma's omelet at lunch. Eren hated how easily Jean had given up on him, how easily Jean gave up knocking down Eren's walls when there was only a thin layer left.

**[vi]**

Last week, Eren hated how Jean managed to take him for a drive that lasted from brunch to when Mikasa finally called for the 75th time. Eren hated how Jean didn't say anything when he demanded where everyone else was (_why didn't you bring Marco with you! Why didn't you stop by Armin's or wait until Mikasa is back from buying eggs?_), hated how Jean turned up the radio:

_All the pictures of your mother_

_All the places that you know_

_All the lessons of your lovers_

_And the things you never show_

Eren hated how Jean stopped by the ocean, turned off the engine of his car and just sat there looking out to the setting sun, looking serene, beautiful, and _sad_ and keep saying nothing but managing to keep Eren's eyes from looking elsewhere. Eren hated how the churning feeling in his gut, the constricting of his heart, the sting behind his eyeballs rendered him helpless and immobile and gave Jean a chance to hold his hand all the way home. Eren hated how he didn't help Armin stop Mikasa from punching Jean in the face when they got back.

**[vii]**

Yesterday, Eren hated how his hand shook all day, hated that he couldn't return Mikasa's eager eyes when she hung his graduation robes behind Eren's door. Eren hated how his mind kept replaying that drive he had with Jean, the lyrics of the song, his mom(_why aren't you here, I need you mom, I'm sorry_) a starker than usual dark presence gnawing inside his chest. Eren hated how Jean had looked drenched in the nostalgic orange light of sunset, the set of his perfect jaw and the tight line of his lips. Hated how Jean had looked so grim but still with a somewhat hopeful bearing when Eren squeezed his hand back. But most of all Eren hated himself most for letting go of that hand and stomping on the already dim fire of hope Jean held in his eyes. Eren hated himself for only knowing that he'd let go of something he didn't know he had until he did.

**[viii]**

This morning, Eren hated how the first thing that he saw when he opened his eyes was the dark green graduation robe. Eren hated how that piece of clothing was all he needed to start crying into his crumpled sheets, sobs that held more than one particular brand of emotional turmoil hacking up his whole body, forcing him to curl in on himself. Eren hated how he thought he'd muffled himself enough that Mikasa wouldn't come barging in, hated how their breakfast burnt because of him. Eren hated how he never thanked Mikasa enough for always being there. Eren hated that the sky didn't fall and the world didn't end and stop him from going to his high school graduation. "Mom would've been so proud," Mikasa said softly, solemnly, and Eren didn't hate her for it.

**[ix]**

Right now, Eren doesn't know what to feel to be sitting in a half-rusted, creaky folding chair in the school hall, with Jean in the seat right behind his, watching their friends walking up one by one to the stage up front to receive their diplomas from Principal Smith. Doesn't think about his dad's absence. He just looks ahead. Mikasa and Armin are one of the first ones to be called, leaving Eren alone in the middle row. Soon he'll be the 104th graduate from Shiganshina High, too, won't ever come back to stop by his long-emptied locker, won't ever have to be face to face with counselor Levi for having fights (with Jean). Eren doesn't know what to feel, because he feels like he's been feeling more than he is capable of already and his soul just gives up on everything and chooses to be numb instead. The numbness feels like an old friend he hasn't seen in years and years, makes Eren wonder when it even stopped coming by and staying in the first place.

Vice Principal Hanji has called the last last name beginning with an _I_, and "Jaeger, Eren," rings out through the microphone and echoes in the high ceilings of the full hall, followed by another roar of applause (Mikasa and Armin's the most excited ones, Connie and Reiner's with a holler, counselor Levi's sarcastic). The reality of the situation seems to finally sink in with the noises all around him, making his legs tremble so terribly that Eren's sure he's going to fall, even from his seat. He doesn't immediately get up, he is aware, still trying to quench the raging _something_ in his entire being when a pair of hands lands on his shoulders. Jean's. One hand moves to pinch his cheek, another slithers up to caress the curls on Eren's nape. And Eren stands up and walks.

It's actually not that far of a walk to the stage, Eren realizes when he's reached the end of his row, applause dissipating and people turning heads to look at him. It's not that far of a walk, so it won't mean much if he takes a small detour, will it? Because Eren needs—_has_ to, _must_ make that detour, for it is going to be his last chance, his very last, to fix and take back what he's let go. After all, Jean had touched him, had put out his wishes for Eren, or _of_ Eren, like when he touched Eren on his seventeenth birthday.

Eren spins on his heel, walking in big strides right back toward his empty seat, knocking it to the side, and he grabs Jean's jaws and kisses him on the lips.

The lips that Eren had punched so many times before are warm, and soft, slotting perfectly with his own full ones. The numbness is gone, swept away by a flock of butterflies that raids his insides (ticklish, jittery, giddy, free, _in love_), heart beating so fast and eyes scrunched up, he's falling, but unlike his hat that reaches its final ground on the floor, Eren keeps flying in his fall.

It takes only a moment for Jean to stop being paralyzed with shock and he pushes that feeling back down, grappling at Eren's face and shoulder, pulling him up and impossibly closer even though they only have a few insignificant inches between them. The kiss is feverish, with only tips of tongues meeting in a flash of open mouths, half angry in its short-lived happening because someone hoots again (Ymir) and it's enough to make them let go of each other before looking into each other's wide eyes and panting through half-open lips.

And then Jean _smiles_, wide and full of teeth and so, so unbelievably happy and charming and Eren is overwhelmed by how gorgeous he looks with it. It's someone Eren has never seen before, not even someone he has ever dared to imagine in his head. It holds so much emotion that it seeps into Eren's own soul, and the stretch and warmth on his own face are the results of Jean's bright beam. Eren's greedy eyes drink in the twinkles from his clear hazel eyes, hating and fearing that he'll never again witness how deep the dimple in Jean's left cheek is, how delicate the arch of his eyebrows are when they aren't forced near together in a frown.

Eren can only hopelessly stand there in awe, probably looking like an idiot and messing up today's meticulously-arranged schedule and annoying a lot of people, watching as Jean leans down to collect their graduation caps hurriedly. Eren watches as Jean puts his own on his seat and puts Eren's back onto his spinning head, fitting it with a gesture that feels sure, definite but not final, as if he's guaranteeing things Eren can only hope for at this moment.

"You still need to graduate, Eren," Jean says, chuckling, looking embarrassed but still grinning and still so, so handsome. He puts a hand on Eren's shoulder, gives a slight push toward the general direction of the stage, but when Eren starts moving, he lets his hand trail along Eren's arm, and like some cheesy old film, kisses the back of Eren's hand when he reaches that part.

Eren is not sure he wants a copy of today's video, because he is sure it is going to be embarrassing watching all this, watching how he practically runs up the stage to both avoid looking at the reaction from everyone (who has gone quiet, the only sound being the low piano instrumental of the school's marching song). Eren bounds up the small set of stairs, keeping his eyes on the ground even as he crosses Mikasa and Armin, and keeps doing so until he can see Principal Smith's nicely polished dress shoes.

"Congratulations, Mr. Jaeger," Eren hears him say to the microphone. He hands out Eren's rolled-up diploma, which Eren takes with a nod and a low 'thank you'. And after moving the white tassel on his hat to the right, Principal Smith offers his hand, putting his other soothingly on Eren's shoulder and giving it an encouraging squeeze. This makes Eren look up, looking into Mr. Smith's amused gaze. Eren is frozen in confusion this time, and doesn't have the time to lean back when the tall man squeezes his hand, too, before saying in a low volume, secretively, "Congratulations, Eren."

Vice Principal Hanji apparently says something funny into the microphone, because suddenly the room erupts in laughter as Eren dazedly makes his way to where he has been instructed to stand. He still feels like he isn't in complete control of his body, because he just _kissed Jean_, and the principal _congratulated_ him _twice_ (possibly even _because_ he kissed _Jean_) but really, Eren is only capable of blinking and absently nodding at his fellow classmates that pat his shoulder.

The rest of the ceremony goes in a blur, the clearest thing that registers into Eren's memory is _Jean_, _Jean, Jean_. They take pictures with all the teachers, take pictures with some other people, people take pictures of them, Mikasa and Armin hugging him from left and right, flashes from cameras of various gadgets almost blinding Eren. In the midst of the happy chaos and chatter Jean finds him, dragging him to a tall man and a busty woman who wraps him in a big, loving hug.

"I've always had a feeling you'd somehow end up with this Jaeger kid you always got into fights with," Jean's dad comments, looking somehow content and exasperated at the same time.

"Hate and love are just different sides of a coin, they say," Jean's mom adds, her French accent lovely.

Jean laughs, pulling Eren closer by the waist, and then drags him to a large circle he recognizes as their mutual friends. Everyone is laughing, everyone laughs harder and coos when they see Eren and Jean, pushing or slapping their backs good-naturedly.

"It's a bit creepy seeing you _not_ looking like you want to kill someone," Connie says, and Eren laughs, and it's free and light and liberating.

"It's creepier seeing Jean being all clingy and positive towards someone we all thought was his arch nemesis," says Annie, which is unexpected, but good nonetheless.

"Aw, come on, everyone _knows_ they love each other!" Christa speaks up, giggling behind her hand.

"Good to see they finally upped the level of their married life!"

"_Marco_! And everyone! Would you guys stop talking like we're not here!"

"Jean," Eren says, in a surprisingly serious tone and a slight frown that has everyone worried that maybe their teasing had been too much. Jean too is now looking at him with a strange expression, like he's preparing for something bad but also trying to maintain his smile. Even though he feels bad about making Jean think that he's going to say something horrible, Eren continues, circling his own arm around Jean's waist, bumping their hips together, saying, "sorry everyone else knew this before we did, before _I_ did, but it's true. I love you."

It's Eren's turn to be worried when Jean's slight frown doesn't immediately melt, but becomes even more complicated and shit, Jean has started to cry. Eren is baffled. "Jean! Why are you crying!"

Jean swings an arm, Eren thinks briefly about what he has done to deserve a punch on his graduation day (and fricking _Confession_ Day, God Almighty). But Jean doesn't sock him in the jaw; the arm winds around his shoulders instead and Jean is hugging him tight. Jean's diploma digs into Eren's nape a bit painfully, but what's more distracting is the moans and sobs Jean is letting out into Eren's neck.

"Fuck you, Jaeger. I thought you were going to tell me this was all a mistake, or that I need to wake up soon! Fucking hell, I love _you_, too, dumbass, I love you so fucking much."

**[x]**

Today, the only thing Eren hates is that his mom isn't here to see him, to see Jean, to shower them with kisses and cute questions, to pinch Eren's cheek for his inability to express his feelings via words but with punches and kicks instead, and she would probably even try to apologize to Jean for everything he'd done.

Eren lies there in his small bed, back to the wall so that Jean can lie on his back beside him. They are a bit tipsy from the beers they drank at the after party, stomach full of pastries and fried junk food and contentedness, everything warm and alight and alive. Eren looks at the perfect planes of Jean's face in the dimness of the room, the strong slope of his nose and gritty jaw and dark undercut. Eren traces a finger on every nook and crevices on Jean's face, the taller boy turning his head and looking at him with a small smile gracing his face. Eren's tanned skin a contrast to Jean's paleness, stark under the white streetlight that finds its way between Eren's drapes. Just looking at Jean like that, it all feels like a dream still. Until it doesn't.

Though his fingers are trembling, Jean's kisses all over his body are firm. His caresses fleeting, his movements sure. Jean makes sure to drag his lips all over Eren's exposed skin, patiently, adoringly, as each article of clothing that separates their skin comes off one by one. Jean opens up Eren's walls this time, slowly removing the bricks softly, confidently, one by one rather than knocking it in on itself. Careful, intent, drawing out all the sounds Eren doesn't know he can make, finding out all the places that make the brunette shiver with newly found feelings. Everything feels so good, too perfect, and it hurts, so good, and it aches and Eren cries this time because he finally feels how real this is.

Today, Eren loves Jean with everything he has, for everything Jean is, including how his own gut was telling him that Jean Kirstein was going to be a permanent fixture in his life. And in a year, Eren can still see Jean behind him, pressing lazy kisses on his shoulders. And in two years, and beyond, Eren knows that he'll hate himself if he ever thinks of lying to himself again and stopping himself from feeling any differently than he does now. Never again.

**[*]**

**A/N:** First successful SnK fic and it's EreJean and I just. I don't even. Okay, well, whether or not this is a success is still unknown, but this is the first one I managed to finish, AND IN A DAY CAN YOU GUYS BELIEVE IT. Like, what the hell, I've been trying to write Eruri because they're like my ultimate OTP and I love them like whoa and I already have like, _four_ stories for them but somehow I think too much and ending up not being able to finish them soon because I don't want to ruin them ahahahaa…. I don't wanna embarrass myself because there are TONS of AMAZING Eruri fics out there (believe me, I know, I've read like 94% of them and they're all so _good_) so my brain decided it's a good thing instead to make this… this lovechild of Mr. Angst and Mr. Fluff (or Mr. and Mr., or Ms. and Ms., whatever!). I don't even _know_ if it's good. Like I don't… feel anything while writing this fic because I was in a kind of frenzy and I just wanna see these angry babies together and failing at being normal teenagers who punch each other instead of making out and I don't. I don't know honestly I'll just leave it up to you guys to say something about this I'm so nervous this is my first contribution and offering to the SnK fandom and I'll go pee right now bye.

Also if you feel like this fic has good grammar it's gonna be because my beta and waifu **Lily**/**dellums **is in charge of fixing it up.

Also I don't have many friends so you guys can like (please) talk to me via tumblr: **thefirstlast** or like, **LINE** or **Snapchat**. Or e-mail. E-mail is good. This fic will also be posted on AO3 under the same title.


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